by Aaron Bunce
A shadow fell on his face as the white skinned demon walked up to him. The creature pawed at him with the strange little arms sprouting from its chest.
Maybe it will kill me. Please…please, do it!
The creature’s face was right above him, its foul breath hot on his face. He could see his reflection in its milky eyes. For an excruciating moment, he even thought that it was smiling at him.
The creature lifted something before it, tapping the glowing metal with a long claw before lowering it slowly towards his face. Strange glyphs glowed green on the smoothly polished underside of the metal as the creature lowered it into place over his face. The strange etchings had some meaning to Balin, deep inside he knew they did.
Balin could feel the heat of the mask as it was lowered into place. His skin started to sizzle and pop, and his nose was filled with the smell of burning skin and hair, yet he felt no pain. The creature held the mask in place until the metal cooled.
Balin felt an instant connection with the mask, as if it was a missing piece of him, finally returned to place. A host of knowledge passed through his mind, and he knew them to be truths. The durjj stepped away, ambling over to sit on the opposite side of the fire to watch. Balin didn’t know why he couldn’t think of what the creature was called before. It came to him so easily now.
“Rise!” The girl said.
No, she wasn’t a girl. Balin knew she was so much more than that. Her words held weight and an irresistible strength. He felt the compulsion of her command all throughout his body, and without thinking, his muscles obeyed.
Balin stood up slowly. The pain was purged from his body, along with his old doubts, fears, and insecurities. They had been replaced with a profound certainty, confidence, and power. He passed his hand over his chest where the puncture had run clear through to his heart, but the skin was healed, replaced now by a glorious scar. It was his badge of power.
He flexed his muscles and bent at the knees. He felt strong. He felt powerful. He saw the world anew through the eyeholes of his mask. The shadows held no secrets that his newfound acuity could not pry open.
Balin, formerly a creature within the shadows, was now of the shadows. He reached up tentatively and ran his fingertips over the mask. The metal felt like a part of him, a new skin, tingly and alive to his unspoken wishes and thoughts.
He turned to look at the girl. His sight, now enhanced by her venomous essence, and the pulsing magic of the mask, allowed him to see her fully for the first time. Amidst the sea of her dark, shifting form floated her eyes, large and green. They were alive with a glorious inner light.
She took a step towards him as she ran a hand over the towering durjj, her protector. Balin didn’t back away as they approached. He no longer had any reason to fear them.
He heard her thoughts, seeping into his mind from the strange resonating metal of the mask. For the first time in his life, his purpose felt clear. He bowed his head before look up into her eyes. He took in the oblong structure, the gem-like facets of her irises, and the long feline slit of her black pupils. He was looking into the eyes of his queen.
Chapter 28
Amongst the Cottonwoods
By the time they slowed to rest their horses, the animals were frothy and tired.
“If we don’t rest these animals, we’ll be walking our arses the rest of the way,” Nirnan groused.
“We can’t stop…we don’t have time for rest,” Julian growled irritably.
He understood they were all tired, injured and sore, but none so much as Julian. He grimaced with each step or bounce of the horse. The dwarvish road up the pass was cobbled and smooth, but its grade was steep and the horses tired quickly. As much as it pained him to admit it, he knew they needed a rest, or they would never make it.
“We’ll stop…water the horses….catch our breath,” Julian said to the others, pausing with each shallow, painful breath.
“Yer in no fit shape for a fight, Ama’lik. None of us are. Hell, healer tried to fix me up, but mine own belly is hardly mended. It still itches from that poke,” Nirnan said, helping Julian off of his horse.
“It was barely a scratch. His sword barely split your armor! The cleric said he squealed when he tried to mend it,” Banner joked, hiding behind Sky.
Julian bit his tongue, but Nirnan backed off, reading the anger. They walked their horses off the pass and into the trees, and after a short walk they found a grassy clearing where they let the animals graze.
The air already felt thinner, and each labored breath less satisfying. Julian tried to pull the stopper from his water skin. He staggered and caught himself against a large pine tree, bright stars flashing before his eyes.
“I can’t breathe, help me get this off,” he wheezed as Sky knelt down next to him.
Sky reluctantly untied the leather straps. “Here let me loosen them for you, it will help.” But Julian shook his head and waved his friend away.
“No, off. I want it off.”
As soon as the restrictive armor came free Julian tossed it into the snow. And although it still hurt when he moved, it suddenly became easier to breath.
“That is better!” Julian gasped as he took a deep breath.
“We turn back. You’re in no condition to travel, let alone fight,” Sky said firmly. He pulled down the neck of Julian’s padded shirt, exposing the blue and green bruising that covered his chest.
“NO!” Julian snapped, and slapped his friend’s hand away, “turn back if you want, but I cannot.”
Sky looked stung by Julian’s response, and heaved himself back to his feet as Julian struggled to stand.
“Ama’lik, look at you, you can barely stand.”
Julian staggered forward, his breath coming in a painful rasp. The hole that had been burning away in Julian’s gut broke open, and before he could master himself his hand was already on the pommel of his sword. Sky’s eyes went wide, and he held his hand out before him.
“I can’t go back. I cannot leave her out there. It is my fault…my fault. You understand?” Julian wheezed, his neck and face going horribly tight. The small clearing went deathly quiet as the men turned towards them.
“We come back with her, Ama’lik, or we don’t come back at all!” Nirnan said, slapping the flat of his axe blade with a meaty palm. The others around the large man all nodded in agreement. However, they didn’t seem as confident.
Sky put both of his hands on Julian’s shoulders. “You are as close to me as any brother of blood. I will follow you anywhere, to death’s doorway if need be. Brothers in honor,” he said and thumped his closed fist, knuckles down, against his chest plate.
Julian relaxed and mimicked the salute, although he only gently touched his knuckles to his aching chest. A short while later they were back on their horses, making their way up the pass through the driving snow.
The higher they went, the rougher the road became. The horses grew edgy on the roadway, pawing anxiously at the crumbling stone underfoot. Julian had to keep a firm hand on the reins to keep his horse moving forward.
Finally, after an arduous ride, the pass leveled out. Julian looked up in awe as the pass jutted up on either side of them.
“J’ohaven! I’ve never seen such a thing. They dug the road out of the mountain…by hand!” Banner said with his mouth agape.
“Damn short leggers are some industrious folk. My arms are aching just thinking about how many hammer strikes it took to move all this rock…” Nirnan added, running a hand over the sheer wall of rock next to the road.
“Haven’t you heard the stories? The dwarves can mold the stone like men can with leather and wood. I heard tell that they can talk to the stone - how did he put it? Sing…no not sing, chant. Yes they chant, and the stone takes on a life all of its own,” Tristan said from behind Julian.
“I did hear they talk to the metal while they forge it. Back home, my pa bought a metal stein from a dwarf merchant wagon. Big old thing, the face of a bear on one side and the creature’
s hind leg was the handle. Well every time my pa put ale in it, the damned thing would turn frosty cold. Didn’t matter how warm the weather, or how hot the drink - whenever beer touched that mug, it would turn frosty cold. Was my pa’s favorite mug! Mother hated it naturally,” Banner said, laughing.
“Weird little folk, ain’t right talking to no rocks,” Nirnan muttered.
Julian quietly nodded in agreement and urged the group forward. It wasn’t until they were clear of the stone ravines that Julian’s hands relaxed on the reins. The thought of having so much crushing rock above his head made him uneasy. But it was the fact that the sunken roadway made for a perfect ambush spot.
They rounded a corner and a large stone arch appeared. A lone sentry slumped against the stone. The noise of the horses echoing off of the stone alerted the creature, sending into a panic.
The small gnarl ran in circles, squealing fervently before banging the handle of its spear against a gong suspended above it. After a few raucous swings, the creature bolted.
“Damn it, Banner!” Julian cursed, but the archer was already in motion. His recurve bow dropped from his shoulder, an arrow already in hand as he spurred his horse forward.
Banner nocked the arrow and let fly. The arrowed flew straight, striking the creature between the shoulder blades. The gnarl croaked pathetically and collapsed.
Julian, fueled by the creature’s sudden appearance, dropped from his horse in a rush. The impact jarred his whole body, but he couldn’t stop. He hobbled the last few steps and found the gnarl clawing its way into a clump of weeds, its legs dragging uselessly behind it. Banner’s arrow protruded from the creature’s spine, a perfectly aimed shot that had paralyzed it instantly.
Julian pulled his sword and finished the creature off, then turned to the others. “Leave the horses. We walk the rest of the way.”
“Nice shot buddy, and on horseback,” Tristan said, walking up behind Julian as Banner retrieved his arrow from the dead gnarl.
“I know, but you’d never make it with that thing,” Banner replied, motioning to Tristan’s yew longbow.
“Full well I could…” he started to argue, but Julian spun on them and silenced them with a look. He loved the two men as brothers, especially their affinity for their ardent competitiveness, but his usual patience was absent.
The two archers went silent, but as they moved off into the trees bordering the roadway Julian heard them resume their argument.
Julian’s impatience sent him charging through the trees, the others scrambling to keep up. He limped up to a fallen tree and looked out onto a fork in the cobbled roadway. A stone obelisk stood at the center of the crossroads.
Julian jogged out into the clearing, stopping at the foot of the stone formation. He heard Sky and the others creep forth from the trees, and the soft tread of their boots as they came up behind him.
He had never seen anything like it. The obelisk was a tree carved meticulously from pure white stone. It stood at least twice his height and width in its girth. Four branches sprouted from the stone trunk at varying heights, all pointing in different directions. The lowest branch pointed back the way they had come. The next branch pointed to their left, where another cobblestone roadway ended abruptly at a mine entrance in a sheer rock wall. The third branch pointed straight ahead, and the last branch, which was higher than the others, pointed off to the north, and the last roadway.
“Is it a real tree?” Sky asked.
Julian removed his glove and ran his fingers over the rock’s smooth surface. The statue’s creator had gone to enormous pains to capture every detail possible, working with hammer and chisel to replicate the smallest pits and creases in the white bark.
“You’re tall Nirnan, what’s that say?” Banner asked, pointing to the words carved on each of the four branches.
“Mmm…mindas prova? I don’t know the words,” Nirnan said, sounding them out.
Julian circled the tree, reading each of the branches in turn, “Mindas Grope, Kraaemura, and Kvotton Prova.”
“Kraaemura,” Julian said, pointing back the way they had come, the way towards Craymore.
“Kvotton Prova,” he said, motioning north towards the last roadway.
“Sounds like Cottonwood Grove to me,” Nirnan said, but before he had finished, Julian was gone, headed for the trees along the northern road.
“Alright then, that way it is,” Banner said with a sarcastic laugh and they all ran to catch up. Julian crept off of the road again, staying no more than two dozen paces from the edge of the trees. He wanted to keep the roadway in sight at all times.
“You’re close, Julian. Keep your wits, don’t act the fool,” he whispered, fighting the urge to run out onto the road. It wouldn’t do Tanea any good if he was rash and got himself killed. Fortunately, his patience paid off, and after only a short walk the roadway ended.
At the end of the road stood a towering wall built solidly out of smooth, white block. Nestled gently within the mammoth wall was a wooden door. The door was so large that it was pieced together with logs honed from entire trees. Heavy iron bands and nails the size of his forearm held the door together.
“That thing would hold back an army,” Sky whispered next to him. Julian nodded, doubting that even their finest battering ram could breach the mighty portal.
“Can we scale it?” Julian asked Sky, hoping his friend had some inspiration.
“Don’t need to. Look!” he said, pointing towards the middle of the mammoth door.
Julian had to rub the blur of fatigue from his eyes before he could see it. It was little more than a crack set within the solid wooden face. At the midpoint of the mammoth door, cut into the timbers, was a small door.
That’s more like it!
Julian broke from the tree cover and ran, lead-footed for the wall. He stopped and quickly scanned the door. There was no locking bar on the outside, but there was an ornately carved handle connected to a strange set of pins.
He lifted the latch without a second thought. It moved with almost no effort. A series of small clicks echoed from behind the door. Each one rang out like the workings of metal cogs and pulleys. Finally with a muffled thud, the door popped and sprung open.
Julian put his hand flat against the door and prepared to shove, but before he could push, it swung in all on its own. Jumping back, Julian pulled his sword free.
With his sword raised and ready Julian darted through the door and into what looked like a small camp. A burned out cook fire was set up barely ten paces from the back side of the large door. A partially butchered animal, blackened and burned was still tied to the wooden spit.
“It’s been here for a while. Days, maybe longer,” he said, judging from the rot and larva covering the carcass.
Julian moved forward, stepping over fur bedrolls and crude tents. The cobbled roadway continued beyond the immense wooden gate, although the rocky walls of the mountain sloped down around it.
They pushed through the scant vegetation until the path widened into a sprawling valley. Julian understood instantly why the dwarves built their settlement here. With only one manageable approach, it was an easy spot to defend.
He scanned the valley. A creek, fed by a spring running down the valley wall, ran through its heart. The stream was only a dozen paces wide, and its banks were covered with small trees and dry shoots of grass.
The trees were covered in fiery red foliage. As the wind cut through the valley the leaves would shake, and as they caught the sunlight they seemed to shimmer and flash.
He could still make out where the thoroughfares branched off from the cobblestone roadway. There was but one building standing amongst the cottonwoods of the grove, and it appeared to be little more than a wood shack, set back within the trees.
The ground was littered with the outlines of buildings torn down long ago. The stone blocks of the building’s foundations was all that was left, sticking out of the ground like remnants of ghostly skeletons.
So the stor
ies were true, Julian thought, his hopes rising. He had found Cottonwood Grove. Tanea had to be close.
Chapter 29
Left for dead
The Smith had told him the truth. There were still some burning questions he had yet to answer. But Julian considered the existence of the grove, and the shack, as a battle won.
The six men approached the grove and huddled behind a cluster of large evergreens. Julian crept under the tree and used the branches as cover. He counted not one, but a dozen wispy trails of smoke.
“Looks like a camp, maybe a dozen fires,” he told Banner as he emerged from the tree’s depths. The archer turned and punched Tristan in the shoulder.
“Told ya,” he snickered and ducked away before his friend could retaliate.
“How many of them can there be? There are only a handful of us,” Asofel said rather meekly, leaned on the shaft of his spear for support.
“They have been attacking almost nonstop for weeks. There could be hundreds of them. Maybe more…” Nirnan started to say, but Julian cut him short. The large man’s hand froze as he worried his beard.
“It doesn’t matter, we go now,” Julian hissed, his breath a steamy fog. “Banner, Tristan, fan out north and south.”
“Wait, we need a plan, a strategy…something,” Sky whispered, and grabbed Julian’s arm to pull him back down. Julian looked into his friend’s eyes and felt his face grow hot with anger. He was beyond plans, beyond strategy. His only plan was to find Tanea and kill anything that got in his way.
“We find her, and we kill everything else!” he muttered, wrenching his arm away.
Behind Sky, Asofel and Nirnan exchanged looks but remained silent. Banner and Tristan were already crawling through the grass, making their way down the hill. Julian looked back at Sky. His friend shook his head but did nothing to stop him.
